In My Dreams
by Harmless As Streaks of Meteors
Summary: The Line of Durin had fallen, though only the bodies of Prince Fíli and King Thorin were retrieved from Ravenhill. The youngest Prince was never found and a mystery lay shrouded as to where his whereabouts could be. In the span of a decade, a number of things had changed. Anastasia!AU Kíli/OMC
1. Chapter 1

**IN MY DREAMS**

* * *

 **Summary:** _The Line of Durin had fallen, though only the bodies of Prince Fíli and King Thorin were retrieved from Ravenhill. The youngest Prince was never found and a mystery lay shrouded as to where his whereabouts could be. In the span of a decade, a number of things had changed. Lord Dáin refused the throne and Queen Dís had accepted the mantle of rulership that should have been her brother's. In her grief, she clung to the hope that her youngest son still lived and had set a reward for anyone who could bring her boy back home to her arms._

 _That is where a rather amnesiac dwarrow comes into play, Alwed, son of no one, had come to the Iron Hills in hopes of finding a future among the dwarves. Having seen the grief of a mother consuming Dís, Dáin wished to offer what consolation he could and sought out as many short humans and young adult dwarrows as he could, promising them a future, hoping that he could find one that resembled the youngest prince so that Dís can finally have her son back, among those who was aiding him was his son and heir._

 _Thorin III Stonehelm was obedient to his lord father but was cynical of the survival of the youngest prince. And when Alwed had been brought in by a guard who explained that the lad was seeking work in the kitchens, he was willing to grant the request but his father stopped him. He was both displeased and amused at how convenient it was that the young dwarrow had lost his memories a decade ago when he awoke in the home of an elf. It was then that father and son had decided that Alwed will be the one to ease the Queen Dís's grief, he shall be their Prince Kíli._

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES:** So here we have an Anastasia AU with Kíli being the only survivor among those in Ravenhill. And yes, we have Gay!Kíli here. Also, here Thorin III Stonehelm and Dáin are not descended from Durin but Dáin is called cousin by Thorin (II Oakenshield) because they're close friends. Please bear with me here.

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 **CHAPTER I : A Rumour in Arda's Lands**

* * *

He walked around the streets of the Iron Hills... _Urâd Zirnul_ the dwarves of its land had called it, he looked around curiously as he shouldered past the crowds of dwarves. His hand held on tightly to the axe that he'd carried with him through the decade since he was found by an elf named Itaril. He had arrived there at dawn and was attempting to find the Lord's Halls to apply for a job in the kitchens, he'd heard tell that the Lord's son was currently ruling and was generous and willing to give chances to those seeking a future in the Iron Hills and he hoped that such talk was true.

Stopping in front of a stall selling pastries, he got in line behind to dwarves who were whispering to one another. _They are young._ His mind supplied to him, younger than he was. And from what Itaril had told him, he should be at least eighty-seven by now. He noticed the excited chattering of the dwarves in front of him grew in volume and he sighed, finding himself unable to ignore them.

"Did you hear that yet another impostor was unveiled today in _Azsâlul'abad_?" One of the dwarves whispered excitedly, their companion nodded as they pulled a disgusted face.

"To think that they would attempt to fool the Queen Dís." The companion huffed out with a roll of their eyes.

"But you must admit, it would be quite the joyous occasion if the rumours were true because that would mean that the youngest Prince still lives." The first dwarf pressed on, he heard the companion snort.

"Oh aye, if the Queen is willing to listen to what the 'Prince' would have to say." The companion was clearly a skeptic, He'd decided. He'd heard of the rumours, of the gossip and whispers.

He knew he awoke on a battlefield and that he may have participated in a battle known as the Battle of the Five Armies, he'd heard of the deaths of the Sons of Durin and that the youngest' body was never found. He also heard of the Queen's grief and the rumours that the youngest prince still lived. It was a sad but hopeful sort of rumour, one that he hoped to be real for the sake of easing the Queen's anguish.

Before he could hear more of the conversation between the young dwarves, their turn had come up and they had immediately purchased their goods before they scampered off. He watched them go before he shrugged and turned to face the stall keeper to purchase his meal.

* * *

Thorin walked through the halls of his lord father's stronghold, his fiery hair and beard braided neatly, his scriptures and texts held tightly in his hand. He sighed and stacked his research upon the desk of his personal study, he had been forced to seek out as much scriptures and text and tones of the Line of Durin so he may act as a tutor. But to what?

A frustrated snarl caused him to run his fingers through his hair, messing up the neat braids he had worked patiently on to tame.

"This is still an order from your lord, Torsten." He growled to himself, using the name he had chosen for himself in hopes that he shall be able to assert authority over his mind and heart. "To ease the grief of the Queen Dís is not a crime." He continued, carefully unrolling the records of all the reincarnations of Durin the Deathless so that he may see if any damage had been done to it in the years it had not been consulted upon, "But falsifying identities, lying to your Queen, those are crimes." He added in, grimacing at the realisation that they truly will be risking their necks with the deceit that his father sought to cause.

The bells rang, indicating the beginning of his father's open court. He sighed, he had been given his father's mantle until they came upon the perfect match for the youngest prince. When ( _"If."_ A treacherous part of his mind corrected.) they did, then he shall play the tutor to the one his father had chosen.

He was no stranger to differing crafts. To perform the role of leader, tutor, scribe, healer, and warrior was no problem for him.

But he did not condone to playing the tutor to a fraud.

The bell rang again. A knock on his study door was sounded and he sighed, he was getting aggravated. He must not allow too much frustration at folly be clear to his father's people. Adjusting his tunic and overcoat, he fixed his belt's position and ensured that his weapons were all accounted for before leaving his study. He greeted the varying Lower Lords that he had passed, ignoring the excited whispers of female courtiers who eyed him eagerly and climbed the steps leading to his father's seat. Upon reaching the seat, he gestured for the doors to the Main Hall be opened and he sat down, ready for the throng of dwarrows, dwarrowdams and travellers to come in and speak their minds to him.

* * *

All the requests and petitions had been given to him for approval, he listened to spats and squabbles that he had resolved, to complaints that he accepted and words of thanks he waved off, to marriage proposals that he had rejected and to insults that he received gracefully. It was the moment that the Captain of the Guards walked in, guiding someone along with him that the heir of the Iron Hills stiffened in his seat and sat up immediately.

Was it a criminal? If so, then what offence could it be that the Captain would seek him out and ask for his judgement when they would usually just be rotting in a cell until his father came to sentence them?

But the moment the Captain reached the front of his seat and a salute was given to him which he had returned, the Captain only grunted and jerked his head to the figure standing before him.

Thorin turned to look at the figure and raised a brow at the sight of the...youth? before him. The figure was a short human - or a short-bearded dwarf - dark hair and eyes, looking anywhere and everywhere as much as possible, eyes wide. He wore a dirty blue tunic, dark brown trousers and beaten leather boots, his hair was wild and tied back into a simple tie that reminded him of a horse's tail. All in all, he was unremarkable, a face that could be lost in a crowd. He was certain that to human women though, he would be quite the catch to their eyes. But to him and to dwarrows and dwarrowdams, he was not memorable. He noted how none of those present in court looked at the silent figure twice.

"Captain Aage, who is this that you bring? A criminal? A spy?" He asked calmly, running an eye over the quiet lad.

"He wanted work in the Lord's kitchens." The Captain gruffly said, russet eyes glancing swiftly at the lad who shifted uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Thorin glanced between the lad and the Captain before he raised a brow at the Captain.

"Never in my life, Captain, had you ever escorted someone who sought for work in my father's Halls." He commented, eyeing the Captain with inquiring eyes.

"He had no clue how to approach you, my Lord, he feared that he would get lost and end up trespassing a forbidden part of the Halls." Thorin held back a chuckle at the grandfatherly voice the Captain adopted for the explanation.

Rising from his seat, Thorin beckoned for the lad to approach him, "What is your name, lad?" He asked gently when he noticed the fearful expression on the lad's face.

"Alwed, milord." The lad answered, his voice low. Thorin nodded.

"Fortunate." He translated simply, he looked at Alwed curiously before gesturing for the Captain to leave, "Fetch the Steward and have Alwed sorted out. I shall introduce him to my father when he returns from his errands."

Alwed looked at him in surprise before a large smile graced his lips before throwing his arms around the young Lord who stiffened before awkwardly reaching up to pat the lad gently on the back. Captain Aage smiled at the young Lord in amusement before shaking his head and leaving to fetch the Steward of the Iron Hills.

"Thank you, miord!" The lad had practically shouted in delight, Thorin sighed and smiled gently. He noticed that the lad was about to speak once more when he saw the Captain returning with the Steward by his side.

"No thanks are necessary, Master Alwed." He murmured, pulling away from the tight embrace. "For now, just go to the Steward." Nudging the lad off to the Steward, he nodded.

"Drill him on our routines and ensure that he shall be provided with a new change of clothes." He cast an eye over the lad's clothes and frowned mildly, "Search for a blue tunic." He chose not to mention that the lad looked good in blue.

* * *

By the time his lord father had returned, the sun had already set and Thorin had holed himself inside his study to read over his research material to see if he must mend or alter anything that might be out of date. He furrowed his brows in concentration as he read through a history book on Khazad-Dûm. He had had to alter and adjust a few parts of some history books that had been ridiculously outdated and he had to request the royal historian to write the entire direct Line of Durin so he may further memorise who would be the false Prince's family.

Many had heard the late King Thorin refer to his lord father as cousin, Thorin chuckled softly, they were close friends and had opted to calling each other "Cousin" due to that. But of course, the Men immediately assumed that they were cousins the moment that title left the late King's lips.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he looked at the runes once more and nodded to himself. The history book was fairly written, there was no trouble with it whatsoever. Closing the book gently, a knock was heard outside his study. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he called for whoever knocked to enter, all the while, he chose a book at random for him to read over.

It was the Steward.

"Master Annbjørg, what is it?" He asked, the Steward entered his study and glanced over at the piles of research material he had dug out from the library with an unreadable expression.

"Your father has come back and had heard tell of the new kitchen boy." They replied, crossing their arms, Thorin nodded with a disinterested hum, at least now he would not need to introduce him. His father is kind to any who deserved his kindness and he was certain that Alwed shall receive that kindness.

"Your father had demanded that we bring him up to you so you three can have a good and proper introduction." The Steward continued, Thorin stilled in his seat and looked up, he caught the Steward's eye who showed a sharp question in their eyes. Thorin ignored that question in favour of standing, leaving the open book as it was and brushing past the Steward.

"Did he tell you why he needs that introduction?" He asked briskly, knowing that Annbjørg would have followed him, the Steward shook their head and pressed their lips in a tight line.

"Though, my Lord..." They sighed, "he seemed far too enthusiastic at meeting the lad." Thorin felt his stomach lurch at the realisation that Alwed might be the false Prince they shall be making use of.

"Very well," Thorin ignored the tightness in his chest and jerked his head to the Steward, "call for Alwed and my father to meet in the war room." It was commonly used for strategising battles and for consulting with the war council but it was not being used as of the moment and he trusted the Steward to keep anyone from entering it while he spoke with his father and Alwed.

* * *

He was the first to arrive in the war room, once he was inside, he took a seat at his seat when the war council was called for. He was always stationed on his father's left side while Captain Aage took the place of his father's right. He closed his eyes and sighed, counting the passing seconds.

Then there was a timid knock on the door and he looked at who it was, it was Alwed. He nodded and gestured for him to be seated. "Be at peace, Master Alwed." He smiled reassuringly to the lad, noticing how he looked frightened.

He cannot blame the lad, seeing as the Lord of the Iron Hills did just ask for him to meet with the heir again.

"Did I do something wrong?" Alwed asked carefully, brown eyes wide with fear. Thorin shook his head,

"My father only wishes to ask you a few questions."

The moment he finished his sentence, the war room's doors opened with his father striding in with what he knew to be the youngest Prince's charcoal portrait. He stood up to greet his father who pulled him into a warm embrace before being released so that his lord father can look at their kitchen boy properly.

"What's your name, lad?" Dáin asked gruffly, dark eyes roaming the boy's figure, Thorin grimaced at what Alwed may be thinking of his father's actions.

"A-Alwed, milord." The boy stuttered, Dáin nodded and turned to look at Thorin who only raised a brow at him. _Does he match?_ He wanted to ask his lord father, but those words went unsaid and his father only had that glint in his eyes that Thorin had learned as hew grew older to be a rather positive sign.

"And where did you come from, Alwed?" Dáin continued, circling the kitchen boy who managed to stand his ground.

"From everywhere yet nowhere, milord." Thorin had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop his smile at the lad's answer. The boy has a fair head on his shoulders to answer in such a manner to a High Dwarf Lord.

"Where were you born?" Dáin pressed on, unminding of Alwed's cheek. For a moment the younger man looked unsure before he steeled himself and tilted his chin up at Dáin.

"And why must you know?" He shot back, Dáin paused in his circling to look at the lad before chuckling.

"I must know where each of my workers come from." He explained calmly, Thorin noted the fact that his father was attempting to soften his thick accent and he smiled encouragingly when his father threw him a glance as if to inquire if his attempt was working.

The fact that their accents were different had often caused many people to assume that Thorin was a bastard, he knew he should see that as an insult but he only found it to be amusing.

Their accents really was just based on who they spent most of their time with and for his father, that was with his grandfather and Captain Aage. For Thorin, that was his mother as well as his tutor, Mistress Bergliot, both of whom had been born among the people of Erebor which in turn caused Thorin's accent to be more soft than his father's but it was still there.

Turning his thoughts away from himself, Thorin looked at Alwed and then his father, brows furrowed slightly as they waited for the lad's answer.

It was yet a few more moments before the lad answered and the answer surprised them.

"I-I don't know, milord." He mumbled at last. Dáin looked surprised but there was a mild note of relief in his expression while Thorin's eyes widened mildly before he looked at his father to see if he heard the same answer leave the lad's lips.

"Truly?" Dáin asked, moving away from Alwed to stand by his son's side who in turn took a careful step forward. Alwed nodded, Thorin cleared his throat.

"Then in that case, Master Alwed," He began carefully, giving a small smile to the lad, "will it trouble you if we asked for what you _do_ remember?"


	2. Chapter 2

**IN MY DREAMS**

* * *

 **Summary:** _The Line of Durin had fallen, though only the bodies of Prince Fíli and King Thorin were retrieved from Ravenhill. The youngest Prince was never found and a mystery lay shrouded as to where his whereabouts could be. In the span of a decade, a number of things had changed. Lord Dáin refused the throne and Queen Dís had accepted the mantle of rulership that should have been her brother's. In her grief, she clung to the hope that her youngest son still lived and had set a reward for anyone who could bring her boy back home to her arms._

 _That is where a rather amnesiac dwarrow comes into play, Alwed, son of no one, had come to the Iron Hills in hopes of finding a future among the dwarves. Having seen the grief of a mother consuming Dís, Dáin wished to offer what consolation he could and sought out as many short humans and young adult dwarrows as he could, promising them a future, hoping that he could find one that resembled the youngest prince so that Dís can finally have her son back, among those who was aiding him was his son and heir._

 _Thorin III Stonehelm was obedient to his lord father but was cynical of the survival of the youngest prince. And when Alwed had been brought in by a guard who explained that the lad was seeking work in the kitchens, he was willing to grant the request but his father stopped him. He was both displeased and amused at how convenient it was that the young dwarrow had lost his memories a decade ago when he awoke in the home of an elf. It was then that father and son had decided that Alwed will be the one to ease the Queen Dís's grief, he shall be their Prince Kíli._

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks for the support and for reading this story! Here's chapter two!**

* * *

 **CHAPTER II : In My Dreams**

* * *

Thorin had sat their new kitchen boy down on one of the seats and had rang the bell calling for a servant to whom he requested that their meals be brought into the war room as well as some additional foodstuffs and ale. He had a feeling they may take longer than he wanted and he figured that they may as well be comfortable whilst they worked away on listening to what Alwed had to say.

The moment their food was brought in, Thorin had thanked their servant before handing a tankard of ale - he should have requested for a tamer tasting alcohol or even just water but he knew that he, Alwed and his father may be in need of something stronger - to Alwed who looked nervously at him then his lord father.

Seating himself in his usual chair by his father's side, he looked at his father inquiringly who nodded with an encouraging smile, "Go on, lad," Dáin coaxed gently, "tell us what you recall from when you had awoken."

Alwed shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked down inside the tankard, a concentrated frown on his face as his lips moved soundlessly as if attempting to speak about how his tale had begun.

He had noticed how the lad looked so frightened, and he made to speak reassuringly to him when Alwed had decided to speak, his voice naught but a whisper.

"They said I was found at the side of a hill," Thorin raised a brow at Alwed and looked at his father. _They? Who was this they he spoke of?_ _Hill? What hill in Aule's name was the lad talking about?_ "there was blood all around, it had recently snowed." Alwed took a sip from his tankard,

"In the light of the new dawn with the wind flying wild," He had nearly whispered the words out, Thorin held his tongue and had attempted to refrain from rushing the lad in his story. "a dwarf was found with no name, bleeding out," Alwed's voice cracked and Thorin felt his heart clench, moving to comfort the lad only to be stayed by his father who shook his head, "and he woke with no memories," Alwed then proceeded to tap the side of his head looking up at them with shining brown eyes, "but the ones he has now."

"I could recall the snow beating upon a white canvas roof, terrifying healers whispering overhead." The young lord had to prevent himself from inquiring where Alwed was found, figuring that the lad would answer his questions when all was said and done, "I recalled bloodied sheets upon makeshift cots." Alwed practically whispered out, eyes glazed, almost as if memory had decided to pull his gaze away from the present. "I heard the healers say to one another, 'Call the boy Alwed, give the boy a weapon," He chuckled softly, Thorin turned to his father and signed his question.

 _Have you seen the weapon he speaks of?_

The answer was a shake of the head.

"I-I don't recall a thing before that." Alwed bit his lip, "Throughout my time, I had travelled far and wide, from an elven realm to Bree and then I had ventured back here."

"So you have had lodgings throughout your travels?" Thorin inquired, relieved to know that Alwed was safe during his wandering days. Alwed shook his head.

"I had slept in the woods most of the days and when I'd saved enough, I had purchased a tent for myself, it was small and thin and rain soaked through it oftentimes but it was still what I would consider shelter."

There was a short pause before Alwed had continued, his drink still untouched, "I had only ever taken what I would need, the tent was my shelter and I would sell or barter my services. I would offer my protection in exchange for food or coins, and I worked when my body was able," Alwed smiled faintly, "the fact that I was still recuperating from battle was not ideal for moving about but I had no choice."

Thorin had found himself leaving his seat to come upon Alwed's side whom he gave a reassuring pat on the back, an awkward smile on his freckled face. Alwed returned the smile with the same amount of discomfort as Thorin's. After an awkward pause, Thorin nodded and had seated himself beside Alwed.

His father had elected to remain at the head of the table, Thorin nearly laughed at how his father was now seemingly the one to follow propriety.

"I had to keep courage," Thorin looked at Alwed who had spoken once more, his head bowed, the fiery haired dwarf lord found himself wanting to reassure the kitchen boy that all will be well, that his courage had paid off. But Alwed had looked up, gave him a small smile and bowed his head, "it was a foolish thing to do, but it must be done to get through the day."

The dark haired dwarrow seemed to lose his voice for a moment and took a small sip of the ale that undoubtedly had been forgotten to be in his possession. "It is in the night I had to cling onto my courage the most," Alwed whispered, "when my dreams come and I've none but the moon and the woods as company."

Thorin frowned, he wanted to ask, to know what Alwed had meant, but the unfocused look in Alwed's eyes may be speaking of the fact that he did not have to ask.

"My dreams are all the same, I would see shadows who beckon to me, calling out to me, laughing with me," Alwed had spoken, voice soft as if he was struggling to speak of such things, "it is like I was in darkness. As if I still _am_ shrouded in darkness," Alwed looked at him, dark eyes no longer wide and frightened but there was a steel like hardness to it, "and then I hear the shadows and a light comes to life in the far end of the darkness that is my mind."

Thorin felt unease coiling in the pit of his stomach when his father looked to be thinking through what the kitchen boy had said to them. He knew that his father was keen to put an end to the Queen's grief but if Alwed had not a single memory to recollect then he was to be an unassuming victim. If he was found out to be an impostor, then he will die not knowing what he'd done wrong.

Thorin had shut his eyes tightly the moment the image of Alwed being decapitated or tortured came to mind.

"My dreams would often fade away a moment too soon," Alwed continued, his voice a welcome break from the silence and from Thorin's mind hissing and whispering all the consequences for deceiving their Queen, "it is only small parts of the dreams such as these I am telling you that remain."

"What else do you remember, lad?" Dáin had asked, Thorin looked sharply at his father, he knew his glare would go unnoticed but he had to attempt to tell his father to leave the lad's mind be. But to his surprise, Alwed soldiered on.

"I...I could recall dreaming of a kingdom beyond all compare," Thorin wanted to stop the lad, he saw the difficulty Alwed had with describing what he did remember, a traitorous part of him however wished to hear more, and it was that traitorous part of his mind that he'd followed, "a kingdom with mountains of gold, with gems and jewels scattered round like wildflowers." The disturbed expression Alwed had on his face as he described that part of his dream - _was it a dream though?_ A part of the young dwarf lord's mind hissed at him - made the coil of unease in Thorin's stomach tighten even further.

"A-and I remember that I dreamed of a voice, it would whisper softly that she will meet us when all is said and done," Alwed looked at him once more. The tears threatening to fall from the lad's dark eyes had made Thorin move on instinct to wipe away those tears that had no right to be present on someone who'd gone through enough grief. Alwed looked at him, and Thorin found that he cannot blame the dark haired dwarf for that. After all, no one knew that he had a tendency to wish to offer comfort where comfort was needed. He smiled encouragingly - albeit a bit tightly as well - and Alwed took a shuddering breath and nodded, "the voice had whispered a promise that we shall see one another again in..." Alwed paused, lips moving mutely to mouth out the name, " _Azsâlul'abad._ " Thorin reared back slightly before turning to look at his father before looking back at Alwed.

Nay, he cannot truly be the lost prince. That...that was painfully clear. He should know better than anyone, he was no fool after all. Alwed must have been a resident of his namesake's Halls and was on his way to an apprenticeship before the Company had left for the Quest for Erebor when his kin promised him that they shall meet in Erebor when all is said and done.

" _Azsâlul'abad_..." Alwed had repeated softly, "it is Khuzdul for the Lonely Mountain, yes?" Alwed asked for confirmation, Thorin nodded. Alwed smiled, "Erebor." He repeated softly.

His father cleared his throat loudly, Alwed turned to look at him and Thorin had immediately placed a hand upon Alwed's shoulder in hopes of offering comfort when he felt the tenseness in the kitchen boy's posture. "Anything else you can remember, lad?" Thorin had wanted to speak up against his father's questions, he wanted to demand a reprieve for the lad, a breather so the lad will not be overwhelmed but he held his tongue and settled for glaring at his father.

"Anything else that could perhaps enlighten us a bit more?" Dáin pressed on, almost sounding as if he was suggesting something.

Alwed looked at the dwarf lord for a moment before he spoke quietly, "You don't know what it's like, milord." His brows furrowed together in aggravation when he spoke, "The frustrations of living, not knowing who you are," Dáin had settled calmly on his seat, deep russet eyes looking at Alwed with a curiosity Thorin wished to shield the kitchen boy from, "of living in the shadows, of traveling far and wide but belonging nowhere." The anger and frustration had flowed from Alwed's lips, Thorin had known that it would do no good to whisper empty comforts and had opted to simply squeeze the shoulder he had put his hand upon, hopefully reminding him that all would be well now, "I see light reflecting from steel weapons, I hear the echoes of anguished screams, but through those dreams I have a glimpse of who I had been before."

Alwed looked at the two dwarf lords who were having a silent conversation and it felt like an eternity before Thorin spoke. "And what was the name of the hill from which you were you found, Alwed?" The fiery-haired dwarf lord asked, Alwed bit his lip.

"Raven...Ravenhill, milord." Was the short response, Thorin nodded and looked at his father, trusting his father to speak of their plan.

"And if we were to help you gain your identity once more?" His lord father asked, a neutral tone in his voice, though the hopeful glint in his eyes betrayed him.

Alwed looked confused and frowned, "But how could you do that?" He asked, confused.

Taking his chance, Thorin gave what he hoped to be an encouraging smile to the lad, "Come back to these rooms tomorrow morn and we shall tell you." His father nodded before gesturing the table with their untouched - and now possibly cold - food.

"But for now," Dáin rumbled, "we must eat."

Alwed nodded, confusion still on his face. "Very well, milord."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES: So what do you think? Please tell me what you think of this chapter, it helps motivate me in writing!**


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